


Who Needs Storks When We've Got Dragons

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: Being an uncle is very serious business.





	1. Chapter 1

The rental car Jesse picks up from the airport is smaller than he would like. Even with the seat pushed all the way back his knees knock against the steering column and his elbow feels cramped at his side until he props it on the rolled-down window. Just as well, as the clean spring air traveling on the breeze is crisp and refreshing after being trapped on a plane for hours. With the sunshine streaming down between fluffy white clouds, the scent of spruce trees and fresh-cut grass filling his senses, he could very well be riding through the backwoods of Oregon or a lonely highway through the Rockies.

Of course, he’s on the wrong side of the road for that. Driving on the left always feels awkward, even after all his time spent around Europe with Overwatch. And the signs are all in German, a language he never picked up except for a few simple phrases and a handful of insults he learned from Angela.

Angela and Genji are having a baby.

Jesse can hardly believe it, even now six months after he heard the big news. They had been trying for a child ever since Angela’s retirement from fieldwork, when Overwatch had enough capable members in their ranks that she could commit herself fully to her research and the training of other support agents. Conceiving was not as easy as sharing a bottle of wine and a romantic evening, however. From what Jesse understands, between simple biological problems and Genji’s injuries, traditional methods proved ineffective. After a year of trying things the old-fashioned way, Angela and Genji turned to in vitro fertilization. A year and three attempts later, they had been on the verge of giving up. Turns out fourth time’s the charm.

He wouldn’t have known half this inside information if not for Hanzo. Like Angela, Jesse and Hanzo had taken advantage of the swelling ranks and slipped into semi-retirement. As reserve agents, they were only called into action if their particular skills were especially needed, which was happening less and less as the newer agents gained experience. This left them with plenty of time on their hands. The two had taken to traveling together, picking up the occasional bounty or side job and generally going wherever their feet took them. They worked well together, enjoyed each other’s company, trusted each other more than any friend they’d ever had before.

As much as Jesse misses the thrill of battling alongside all his friends, those times when it was just him and Hanzo were some of the happiest Jesse can remember.

And yes, he may have fallen a little bit in love.

That happened a good while back, of course. He’d be hard-pressed to say when exactly the realization dawned; it was more of a fondness that grew deeper with each passing day until he found himself utterly drowning in affection toward the other man with no life raft in sight. And he would have admitted it, eventually. Bravery in battle is one thing, but bearing his heart is another thing entirely and he had been gathering his courage when they got the call.

Jesse had never heard such an exclamation of joy from Hanzo as when Genji told them Angela was pregnant, as if he were the one becoming a father and not an uncle. He damn-near cried when Genji sent a picture of the golden dragon egg Angela had found in a nest of her freshly-laundered scrubs. That night Jesse and Hanzo had gone drinking and gotten completely smashed, toasting Angela and Genji and the baby and anything else they could think of in celebration.

A week later Jesse was traveling alone.

He understood why Hanzo felt the need to join Genji again. Their reconciliation had been a long and painful process full of strife, but they made it out the other side closer than ever. And Genji is the only family Hanzo has left; of course he would want to be there for his brother and the birth of a new generation of Shimada dragons. So Hanzo had left to give Genji and Angela all the support they could possibly need, and Jesse watched him go with a wistful smile. For a few weeks, Jesse thought the time and distance would ease the ache in his heart. He should have known better. Even worse was that Hanzo’s texts were few and far between, not a one in the last two months. It hurts. Jesse feels the absence like his missing limb. Still, he can’t help but feel happy that Hanzo is getting a family, one he should have had all along.

They somehow managed to get Jesse an invite to the baby shower, an elegant white card with a spread of flowers and a baby rabbit on the front. The inside lists the date and location, all formal calligraphy written in a familiar hand. Jesse has it with him now along with his gift in the passenger seat. The drive through the German countryside is pleasant, and he finds Angela’s home town quaint and idyllic. Her mother is hosting the event; Jesse vaguely remembers meeting Mrs. Ziegler once some twenty years ago when Angela first joined Overwatch. He doesn’t remember making a good impression. Maybe she won’t remember him.

Jesse can tell he’s reached his destination before the GPS alerts him because the street is suddenly lined with parked cars. A mailbox next to the driveway has pastel green and yellow balloons attached to the post. He pulls in behind the furthest from the house and spots a few men he doesn’t know loitering on the front lawn. They’re all talking to a giant of a man that Jesse would recognize anywhere. He manages to get his rental locked before Reinhardt spots him.

“Jesse!” he booms, lumbering out to meet him halfway with a bear hug that lifts him up on his toes. “You made it!”

“Hey, old man,” Jesse chuckles, returning the embrace and hoping his ribs aren’t bruised. “Better be careful, you’ll throw your back out again.”

“Old man, he calls me. Look at you!” Reinhardt pats Jesse’s cheek with a hand the size of a baseball mitt. “You’re getting some gray on you, too!”

Jesse shrugs him off with a self-conscious laugh, well aware that his own age is beginning to show. He deflects that talk by holding up his gift bag. “Where can I drop the goods?”

Reinhardt beckons him to follow, making introductions as they go. The men in the yard are some of Angela’s coworkers from one of the hospitals she has connections to, and a group of extended family members loiters just inside the door. One of those, an older teen with her hair pulled up in a complicated blonde bun, pins a nametag to his serape with a big safety pin. When he looks down at his upside-down name he realizes the label has been cut in the shape of a diaper.

“It’s goin’ to be one of those kinds of parties, huh?” Jesse says, looking up at Reinhardt and just now noticing the tag on the pocket of his dress shirt.

“You haven’t seen the rest of the house yet,” is his worrying reply.

Things are worse than he feared. Pastel is everywhere. Streamers, balloons, and do-it-yourself decorations are stuck to every surface. There’s a series of tables set up with a spread of finger foods, all baby-sized to stick with the theme. Next to them is an honest-to-God diaper cake, and Jesse feels the sudden urge to flee back to the airport. He drops his bag on the table overflowing with gifts and spots a familiar face chatting near the drink table. “Well if it ain’t the good Captain Song.”

Hana looks over her shoulder and breaks out into a wide grin. “McCree! I was wondering if you’d show up,” she greets, giving him a hug once he’s close. “Oh, and this is Mrs. Ziegler--”

“We’ve met,” the elderly woman says in a heavy German accent, taking Jesse’s hand in an elegant grasp. Any hope he’d had that Angela’s mom forgot him flies out the window at her cool stare.

Jesse sweeps his hat off his head and tries for a charming smile. “Pleasure to see you again, ma’am,” he says. “And might I say I apologize for anything I might have said in my youth.”

She quirks one perfectly arched eyebrow, amusement leaking into her expression. “If I recall correctly, young man, you called me a,” and she pauses for emphasis, “MILF.”

Hana nearly chokes on her drink and Jesse winces, then covers Mrs. Ziegler’s hand with both his own. “And you are looking as lovely as ever, ma’am.”

The woman finally cracks a smile, demeanor slipping as she squeezes Jesse’s hand. “Thank you, son. Angela tells me what a fine man you have become, and such a good friend to Genji. Make yourself at home.”

“Aw, shucks, thank you, ma’am.”

As Angela’s mom makes to greet another guest, Hana gestures to the drink table. “No alcohol today, I’m afraid.”

“It is only fair to Angela,” Reinhardt points out, looking forlornly at the table.

Hana nods. “The punch is pretty good though. Do you want nip or no nip?”

Jesse blinks. “Pardon?”

Snickering, Hana picks up two of the drinkware options on the table--normal plastic cups and sippy bottles, complete with rubber nipples for the top. “Nip or no nip?” she giggles, shaking a bottle at him.

He takes a normal, adult cup and fills it with ice. “Jesus, Angie went overboard, didn’t she? I didn’t think she’d be into all this.”

“Not Angela,” Hana replies, but before she can expound on the topic Jesse catches sight of a Hanzo-shaped blur out of the corner of his eye. He only sees the man for a moment before he’s gone, too quick to get a good look or say a hello, off into the back of the house. When he looks back his cup is filled with punch and Hana is taking him by the arm. “Come on, the parents-to-be are set up in the back. Everyone’s there.”

Angela’s mother’s house is small but the property expansive. The spacious backyard is just as decorated as the house and filled with even more people. Angela may have been an only child but she has plenty of relatives. Angela and Genji’s friends are scattered in a veritable sea of blonde. She is seated at a place of honor and currently surrounded by a gaggle of women that all have her signature looks. “You might want to wait until later to say hello,” Hana says. “That group got here a few minutes before you, and they’ve been talking non-stop.”

Overwatch has taken over a back corner of the yard. They stand out like sore thumbs compared to the rest of the crowd, colorful and diverse. A few cadets are still in their battle gear, and Fareeha is wearing one of her formal shirts over the sleek bodysuit she uses under her armor. She stands to greet him when their trio walks up. “I was wondering if you’d be joining us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jesse replies, giving her a hug. He takes in her sweaty hair pulled back in a messy bun away from her face. “Been busy?”

“We had an emergency mission near the Black Sea. Nothing major, but horrible timing. We didn’t have time to change.” She sighs. “I’ll have to mail them their gift.”

“Such is the life of Commander,” Jesse intones. It earns him a light smack, Fareeha laughing. “I see y’all are being your anti-social selves back here.”

“We were just catching up,” Ana says, leaning up to press a kiss to Jesse’s cheek when he leans over for a hug. Across from her Zarya nods at him in greeting. “I was just telling them about Fareeha’s baby shower.”

“I remember that,” Torbjörn says from out of nowhere, stomping up to the group with a plate laden with a pile of finger foods. He takes a seat next to Ana and holds his plate out to share. “Gerard didn’t realize a bottle of wine was a poor gift for a pregnant woman, and Jack looked like he was going to break out in a rash from all the baby clothes.”

Leaning against the back fence, Jack grunts in acknowledgement. “I never claimed to be the fatherly type.”

Hana and Fareeha both snort as Ana cranes her neck around to look at him incredulously. “Not the baby-type, maybe. But you’ve got the stern father-figure perfected.”

“Where’s your brood?” Jesse asks Torbjörn.

“Around,” he replies, gesturing to the party.

And yes, when Jesse looks around he can recognize a few of Torbjörn’s older children among the crowd. Brigitte catches his eye and gives him a wave that he returns. “How many grandkids you on now, Torb?”

The shorter man puffs up like a proud parakeet. “Seven, with two on the way! Ingrid sends her regards, of course. She stayed back with Helena; she’s due, wouldn’t do well for her to be traveling. Broke her heart that she’d miss the party. Her and Angela have been writing…”   


Jesse’s distracted when he spots Hanzo again, this time carrying a plate of h'ordeuvres over to the group gathered around Angela. They all exclaim happily at the appearance of food, and he and Angela exchanging words. The pause gives Jesse a chance to examine Hanzo from a distance. The other man has cut his hair short, styled so it still sweeps up and away from his face. He’s dressed more conservatively than Jesse is used to seeing--a simple dress shirt and slacks, no flair, nothing designed for battle. He still cuts a dark and dangerous figure but there’s a softness now. Jesse feels a faint buzz inside that has nothing to do with the bubbly punch and everything to do with seeing Hanzo again. They make eye contact when Hanzo straightens, their gazes locked across the expanse of the backyard, and Hanzo starts like he’s seen a ghost. Jesse raises his hand and smiles. He has to fight down the disappointment when Hanzo returns the gesture with a small smile of his own then disappears back inside with the empty plate.

So it goes, Jesse reminiscing with the people he knows and watching as more and more people show up. He had no idea Genji and Angela had accumulated such a wide network of friends and relatives. Every time Jesse thinks he’ll be able to make his way over to congratulate the mother-to-be, another group moves in to take her attention. Genji is the same way, getting pulled this way and that to be given hearty handshakes and back-slaps that Jesse is surprised doesn’t earn someone a reactionary punch or kick. And all the while Jesse keeps spotting Hanzo flitting about making sure the party is running smoothly, always gravitating back toward Angela. Any attempt he tries to waylay Hanzo has the ninja altering his path, almost like he is avoiding the cowboy.

Maybe he is. Jesse’s fingers twitch for a smoke.

He’s working on his second plate of tiny cucumber sandwiches and cubes of assorted fancy cheeses when Genji manages to break away from the crowd to head their way. “Well, well, the man of the hour,” Jack says, raising his cup.

There’s a chorus of cheers and a few whistles that has Genji grinning like a loon. Jesse is frankly astonished that the ninja is going maskless for a party so packed with people. Truly a testament to how far he’s come. Genji accepts a hug from Hana and waves them off. “Angela deserves all the praise. I only helped a little.”

“Now, Genji, don’t they say it ain’t the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean?” Jesse teases, eliciting a booming laugh from Reinhardt and Torbjörn and getting a napkin thrown at him from Mei.

“Maybe it’s a little dingy,” Jack counters, sending all of them into laughter totally inappropriate for people their age.

“Alright, yes, very funny,” Genji says, giving a put-upon sigh though the smile never leaves his face. He turns to Jesse. “I was hoping I could speak with you. In private?”

Curiosity piqued, Jesse nods and hands his plate over to Fareeha since she’s been stealing from it all afternoon anyway. Genji winds them back through the crowded house to one of the rooms closed-off from the rest. When Genji opens the door Jesse finds a nursery inside. The walls are painted a pale lavender with mint green and white accents, all the furniture polished wood and soft fabrics. A crib stands to one side, and a rocking chair in the corner.

Genji shuts the door behind them as Jesse takes in a half-constructed mobile on the floor. “Angela’s mother converted one of the guest rooms. I have a feeling the baby will be here almost as much as with us in Gibraltar.”

“It’s a right cute little nursery,” Jesse says, picking up little pillow from the rocking chair. There’s a yellow duck embroidered on the front. “I should’ve got you one of them rocking horses.”

“There’s always birthdays,” Genji replies. Then he visibly hesitates, as if steeling himself, and now he has Jesse’s full attention. “I wish I could have been able to speak to you sooner, but I wanted to do this in person.”

Jesse frowns. “What’s up, Genji?”

“Nothing bad,” he says. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair. Nervous. Then he flashes a smile. “I do not feel like I have ever fully expressed how much your friendship has meant to me, over the years.”

“Oh, now, Genji, we don’t need to--”

“Let me finish,” Genji says, holding up a hand and willing Jesse to fall silent. “It is important to me that you know that. You are one of my first and oldest friends. Someone that has been there for me at my worst. Someone I can trust no matter what. And you know that is hard for me to express.” Jesse nods, holds his tongue. Feels emotions welling up in his chest. But he is still wholly unprepared for what Genji says next.  “Angela agrees with me, that there is no one more fitting to ask to be the godfather.”

Jesse knows his mouth falls open, but now no noise comes out. His throat is too tight. He has to clear his throat to speak. “Me? A godfather?”

“We want you to be a part of our child’s life,” Genji says. “Hanzo will be there, of course, and Angela’s cousins, but you--you are as much a brother to me as Hanzo.”

“Aw, hell, Genji,” Jesse chokes out, quickly scrubbing at his eyes suddenly wet with tears. His laugh is nasally and deep. “Hell, of course. I’d be honored.” He drags Genji into a fierce hug, the two holding tight. “Son of a bitch, makin’ me cry.”

Genji laughs, patting Jesse hard on the bicep. He sounds just as affected. “Thank you. Angela will be thrilled.”

“I still gotta get over to talk to her.” After he cleans his face. Jesse knows he looks splotchy and red after a few tears. “And thank you. That kid’s gonna have more parents than they’ll know what to do with.” He sniffles hard. “Damn, couldn’t have warned me a little?”

“What’s the fun in that?” Genji asks, the little shit. Then his smile dims. “Have you talked to Hanzo?”

“No. Ain’t for lack of tryin’, neither. He’s slippery as hell for some reason.” His brows furrow. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Not...necessarily,” Genji replies, which is troublesome enough. “You two really need to talk, but he has his hands full right now. If you cannot catch him during the party, stay after. You can have dinner with us.”

“Alright,” Jesse agrees, no reason to say no and not willing to grill Genji more when he needs to go back out to his guests. But the non-answers make worry twist in his gut. All Genji has done is confirm that there is something going on, that his instincts are leading him the right direction. But what?

After Genji returns to the party Jesse lingers for a bit in the kitchen, watching out the back window as people mingle and socialize. He is a part of this now.  _ Godfather _ . Jesse long ago gave up the idea of having children of his own; that always seemed like a life for other people, not meant for him. The very thought of being a father seems so absurd. A criminal, a vigilante, an operative, a drifter--people like that don’t have children. They have records and regrets and sleepless nights where the past haunts from the shadows. This is different, though. He already knows he would give this child anything, even before being asked to take on such a role. Genji is the brother he never had and always wanted. Angela his big, sometimes bossy sister that he’d kill to protect. Family.

His eyes track the handsome man in navy and white as he crosses the yard to bring Angela a slice of cake. If they are his family, what does that make Hanzo?

Jesse sets his glass down on the counter with a firm clink. He’s a man of action, not contemplation.

He manages to cut through the gathered guests faster than Hanzo can see him coming and steps up to the little circle of chairs around Angela just as an elderly gentleman is vacating the one to her right. “My my, Angela, I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more radiant, but here we are.”

Hanzo freezes at her side as Angela turns a bright smile up at the cowboy. “Jesse! I saw you come in! It’s so good to see you!” She bestows him a tight hug and tugs him down into the empty chair. Once seated he takes a moment to look her over. She looks as healthy as always if not a bit frazzled around the edges, her carefully styled hair made messy from so many hugs from guests. If not for the swell of her stomach under her blouse Jesse would say she’s just gotten off a long shift in the infirmary. Even her baby bump is cute, if he were to call it anything; a round shape that ruins her perfect posture and has her slumping back against the cushions almost immediately. “How are you? Did you just get in?”

“I’m good. Yeah, came straight from the airport,” he says. “Couldn’t miss a big get-together in my godchild’s honor, now could I?”

“Oh! Genji said he’d tell me!” she exclaims, sitting up again and hugging his arm. Her voice is a little wobbly from a sudden emotional shift, but her smile is gigantic. “You said yes? We’ve been talking about it for weeks, and we just knew--Hanzo brought it up and I couldn’t believe we hadn’t decided and he was right--you were right, Hanzo, it’s going to be just perfect--” Wordlessly, Hanzo passes down a clean tissue for Angela to wipe her eyes. The motion seems well-practiced at this point. “Forgive me, my hormones are all over the place,” Angela laughs.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be apologizin’ for,” Jesse says, patting her arm gently. “Of course I said yes. I can’t thank you enough for the honor.”

“I should be thanking you, for all you’ve done over the years,” Angela says. If she keeps talking like this, all open and sweet, Jesse is going to start doubting this is really the same Angela that runs the infirmary with an iron fist. “I know if anything happens you’ll take good care of our baby.”

“Someone’s gotta be around to bail the kid out of jail when they get in trouble.”

“Yes, but who is going to teach them to get in trouble?” Angela asks, shooting him an amused look. “You, that’s who. And you are not allowed to dress our child, so don’t get any ideas.”

Jesse grins. “You know they make itty-bitty cowboy boots, right? The kid’s gonna have a dozen of ‘em.”

“Hanzo and Genji are already discussing ninja training,” she says, a touch of annoyance in her voice. Jesse can see Hanzo’s shoulders tense as he glances away. “Fareeha said they can be enrolled in self-defense courses at five, and Zenyatta offered to start teaching meditation techniques before the baby can even hold its head up. I swear everyone is offering to turn my baby into an Overwatch agent before it’s even born. Ana warned me this was going to happen.”

“Aw, now, everyone just wants the little guy--or girl--whatever, the baby to be safe,” he replies, glancing down at her tummy. “But don’t you worry, we won’t start’em on gunslingin’ until they’re at least twelve.”

“Not you too!” They share a laugh that peters out as Jesse looks up at Hanzo, their eyes holding for a moment and the humor falling away. Words claw at Jesse’s throat to break the awkward lull in conversation but nothing seems appropriate. Hanzo’s gaze flits away, and Jesse is about to say to hell with it when Angela twists around to speak to Hanzo directly. “Can you do me a favor?”

Hanzo snaps to like a soldier. “Of course, what do you need?”

“My mascara keeps running,” she says, gesturing to her face. “I need a touch-up. Could you go get it for me?” The black is just barely smudged, the faintest of ghosting under her eyelids. No one would notice if she didn't point it out. Hanzo hesitates and Angela adds, “The tube should be in the second drawer in the vanity. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Hanzo says again, finally heading off back to the house.

The moment Hanzo is out of sight a hand like a claw clamps down on Jesse’s arm. He has no time to react before he’s being hauled in close to Angela’s face. “You have to stop him,” she hisses.

The sudden mood shift is jarring and leaves Jesse confused. “What?”

“Hanzo!” she whispers, voice a harsh burst of air. “When he offered to come help us with the pregnancy, I didn’t think he meant it like this. He’s always here! Going and going, he doesn’t stop! He insists on having a hand in everything--taking me to my appointments, making sure I eat right, painting the nursery, everything. This party? All his doing. Do you think I give a damn about having baby-themed desserts? Jesse, he’s going to make us play games. Baby-themed games. He has to be stopped!”

“Are we talkin’ about the same Hanzo Shimada?” Jesse asks, bewildered.

Angela makes a pained face. “I know he’s trying to make things up to Genji and overcompensating. I was fine with it, but I’m at my wit’s end. Please, you have to do something,” and she leans in while squeezing hard on his forearm, “or the baby will not have an uncle because I will murder him with one of his own stupid arrows, I swear on my staff--”

“Oh look, here’s your mascara now!” Jesse blurts as Hanzo returns quick as a flash, makeup in hand. Like flipping a light switch Angela goes from threatening to cheery, accepting the little tube and unscrewing it with a soft thank you. He can see Hanzo about to rabbit away again and abruptly stands. “Hanzo, Angie was just tellin’ me about some trouble y’all been havin’ with somethin’ in the back garden. You wanna give me a hand?”

The excuse is flimsy, practically see-through, and Hanzo looks somewhere between puzzled and suspicious so Angela jumps in to add, “Oh, yes, thank you both. Jesse will show you what I’m talking about.”

Jesse doesn’t wait for Hanzo to answer, forging off toward the gate that separates the yard and party from the back garden. In her retirement, Angela’s mother poured all her energy into the grounds. The trellis of ivy on all four sides is thick enough to form a natural wall that goes so far as to dampen the noise from all the people on the other side. Jesse holds the gate open for Hanzo who strides through, already looking around for whatever might be wrong. He whips around when the gate clicks shut behind them. “Well? What is the problem?”

“You tell me, partner,” Jesse says, leaning his weight against the gate.

Hanzo’s a smart cookie; he knows he’s been played, but tries to deflect anyway. “I do not have time for this. Angela wanted someone to take pictures, the presents need to be carried out so that she can start opening gifts, and I need to hand out--”

His attempt to push past Jesse is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. “There’s damn-near a hundred people out there that can do any of those things. Right now you’re goin’ to take a minute to breathe and tell me why you’re drivin’ Angela off the deep end.”

As quickly as Hanzo was in his space he backs away again, out of reach. His anger turns to confusion then melts into a grimace. Hands settle on his hips and he drops his gaze to the grass below their feet. “Did she say that?”

“More or less.” Jesse crosses his arms over his chest. “Sounds like you might be oversteppin’ just a tad, Han.”

A soft curse gets tossed toward the ground, Hanzo shaking his head. “I know,” he admits, glancing up at Jesse then looking off to the side, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I know, but I cannot seem to help myself.”

“You worried about them?”

Hanzo sighs. He sounds tired, maybe even more tired than Angela. “More than anything. All I seem to do is worry.” He looks up at Jesse again, properly, willing Jesse to understand. “After all these years and everything that has happened, the continuation of the Shimada line still means something to me. Genji and I both thought the clan was ending with us. Maybe it did, but now is our chance to start something new. Something better.” He straightens, breathes in deep. “Genji’s child will have everything we did not. They will know they are loved and have support, will never be pressured to be anything other than who they are. I will make sure of that.”

“That’s all well and good, but you still gotta let Genji and Angela be parents,” Jesse says, gentle. “You can do all that and still give’m space.”

“You are right,” Hanzo replies. “But it is hard. So many things can go wrong--”

“And we’ll be there to make sure that they can handle it.” He smiles, taking in Hanzo in the gold of the sunlight. “You’re goin’ to be a good uncle.”

Hanzo answers in kind, his features going soft at the thought. “You will make a good godfather.”

“You really suggested me as a godfather?” Jesse asks. “Me? The guy that got arrested for drunk and disorderly at eleven in the morning on Easter Sunday?”

“If I recall correctly, I was right there with you,” Hanzo counters. “We will be teaching the child to do as we say, not as we do.”

They share a chuckle at the memory, but once again it fades to an awkward silence. The air is filled with the sweet scent of pollen but also the heaviness of words unsaid. Now that he has Hanzo alone, Jesse has no idea how to breach the subject. So, he starts with what he knows. “Genji said you and I need to talk.”

Hanzo goes still, face blank. “Did he?”

“Yeah.” Jesse pushes off the gate and comes closer, slow, careful. He doesn’t want to spook Hanzo. He may never catch a chance again. “I’m inclined to agree.”

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“Uh huh. Just like you ain’t sure why you’ve stopped talkin’ to me?”

“I have been quite busy,” Hanzo says. It sounds fake to both their ears.

Jesse stops before him, squared up and ready for a fight. “Just like you’ve been avoidin’ me since I got here.” Hanzo remains silent, jaw locked like he’s keeping his thoughts from fighting free. The lack of denial says plenty. Anxious tension twists at Jesse’s insides. “Look, if I did somethin’, you could at least tell me--”

“No,” Hanzo says, looking away again. “This is--you are fine. Wonderful. You have done nothing wrong.”

“Then what, Hanzo? What gives? This ain’t like you.” But maybe it is. All those years spent befriending this man, breaking down the walls around his heart, watching him fight being loved tooth and nail every step of the way. Jesse’s starting to get an inkling that maybe he knows what has Hanzo running. And if his hunch is right, he could kick himself for being fool enough not to realize sooner. He just needs to know.

This time when Hanzo pushes past Jesse doesn’t fight him, lets him get a hand on the gate before blurting, “I missed you.” Hanzo stops, fingers in a tight grip on the handle. Jesse waits for him to turn his head and catch his eye. “After you left, I...I missed you, a hell of a lot.”

Hanzo turns. Eyes guarded. He swallows. Jesse can barely hear his answer for how soft it is. “I missed you, as well.”

“Been tearin’ myself up over it, t’be honest,” he continues, moving to follow. Hanzo takes his own tentative step away from the gate, closer. “Been thinking, maybe I should have said somethin’ before you left. Maybe I should have followed you sooner.” He gets the privilege of watching those dark eyes widen and Jesse takes that last step in, the distance between them unmistakable for anything other than intent. “I’m thinkin’, I’d’ve followed you damn near anywhere, if I’d known you wanted me there.”

Jesse raises his hand to Hanzo’s cheek, brushes fingers along the cut of the bone beneath skin, follows the blush spreading to his ears down to the exposed nape of his neck. Hanzo’s eyes fall closed on a tremor. “I thought,” Hanzo murmurs, “if we were apart, this would go away.”

“Is that what you want?” Jesse asks.

For one heart-breaking moment, the garden is silent, the question seeming to make time stand still. Then Hanzo’s firm touch is on his pressing Jesse’s hand to Hanzo’s face. “No,” he says, other arm snagging Jesse by the serape.

They meet in the middle, Jesse ducking his head down while Hanzo pushes upward. Their lips brush light and warm against each other, and they each exhale a shaky breath, that final barrier broken. A soft glance between them, so close Jesse could go cross-eyed, before Hanzo pushes up again. Jesse tilts Hanzo’s head and presses inside, reveling in the slick heat of his mouth and the movement of his clever tongue against Jesse’s own. Oh, it is better than he ever could have imagined. Their facial hair scrapes together as their kisses blur from one to the next. Jesse’s free hand pulls Hanzo in by the small of his back, presses them together from chest to thighs, and Hanzo makes a needy noise in the back of his throat that boils Jesse’s blood.

Breathing is a thing they have to do at some point, and they part reluctantly to suck in much-needed oxygen. Words pour out of Hanzo as if a dam has broken. “I am sorry. I should have said something, but I could never find the words, and if I stayed one more day I was going to explode--”

Jesse presses kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, the corners of his mouth. “I could have said something, too. Didn’t know what I did to drive you away--”

“I panicked,” Hanzo says in a rare admission. Jesse cups the back of Hanzo’s head and draws him forward, holds him tight against the fabric of his serape covering his throat. “I thought if we just had time apart, I could put a stop to these thoughts. But they just got worse.” He drags fingers up into Jesse’s beard, turns their faces toward each other again. “You always make things so complicated.”

“You always look younger every time I see you,” Jesse counters. He runs fingers through the short hair again, lingering near Hanzo’s ears when he elicits another shiver. “How come when you get a haircut you look hot as hell, and I just get grayer?”

Hanzo breaks out into a grin and wraps his arms around Jesse’s shoulders. “You like it?”

“Let me show you how much,” Jesse replies, forcing Hanzo backward until his shoulders hit the trellis. Surrounded by ivy and looking up with his face bathed in sunlight, Jesse thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He dives in with enthusiasm, heart filling with joy at finally having this man where he’s wanted him for longer than he can remember. Not a murmur of protest comes forth even when Hanzo knocks his hat from his head or the serape from around his shoulders, or when Hanzo manages to work Jesse’s shirt free from his pants to touch the skin at the small of his back. Certainly no objections to Hanzo raising a leg and hooking it around Jesse’s waist. Nothing but encouragement when Jesse hauls Hanzo up with hands under his thighs and bites at Hanzo’s lips when the other man grinds against him.

They almost manage to forget about the party.

“Here they are! I found them!”

The loud exclamation is close enough to make them both startle, unfortunate considering Jesse’s teeth were worrying the flesh of Hanzo’s bottom lip. Hanzo yelps when Jesse bites too hard and they both nearly topple over. “Shit! Sorry!” Jesse gasps when Hanzo yanks a hand up to his mouth. “You alright?”

“M’fn,” Hanzo mumbles, eyes watering a little but when he brings his hand away there’s no blood. Their heads turn in unison to find Orisa standing at the open gate, her giant frame barely fitting through the opening. There’s no way they should have missed her approach, but Jesse can admit they were a bit preoccupied.

Orisa’s eyes rotate from plus signs to happy upside-down V’s. “Forgive me for intruding! We are about to begin party games. Please join us when you have finished!”

“Ah, thanks,” Jesse says with a polite smile. “We’ll be right out.”

The gate slams shut when she lets the door go, and they clearly hear her exclaim, “Mister McCree and Mister Shimada will be out shortly! It appears they are making a baby of their own!”

_ “Orisa!”  _ Efi screams over the sudden swell of laughter and shouts from beyond the trellis.

Hanzo’s head falls forward to thump against Jesse’s chest as the taller man shakes with laughter. “I don’t think Efi’s gotten around to givin’ Orisa the birds and the bees talk,” Jesse says. “Or if she has she missed a few key points.”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo agrees. He raises his head and smiles, tonguing at the sore on his lip for a moment before adding, “That is one conversation we will leave for Genji and Angela to give to their child.”

“Agreed.” He steps away from Hanzo to go about fixing his mused clothes and retrieving his hat and serape from the ground, only a little damp from the grass. Hanzo’s hair isn’t quite as perfectly swept as before, and his collar is a bit uneven. Seeing the subtle imperfections makes something warm sizzle in Jesse’s chest. “Genji invited me to stay for dinner.”

Hanzo nods as if he expected this. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“Made reservations at a hotel in town. Unless I get a better offer.”

“You do not have to fish for an invitation,” Hanzo scolds, allowing Jesse to take his hand, unable to stop the smile that he previously had to force. “I have an apartment not far from here. Stay?”

Jesse brings Hanzo’s hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across his knuckles. “Of course, darlin’. All you had to do was ask.” He pulls the other man in for one last kiss in private, then opens the gate like a gentleman. “Now what sort of games do you play at a baby shower, anyway?”

Hanzo smirks and hooks a finger in Jesse’s belt loop as he passes. “You are definitely my partner for the baby food tasting competition.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela is a good bro.

“Better stop smiling like that,” Jesse says while adding another stack of dishes to the growing pile at Hanzo’s elbow. “Your face is liable to stick that way.”

Rather than school his features into a neutral expression, Hanzo can feel his grin grow wider. “You first,” he replies.

Jesse chuckles and squeezes Hanzo’s bicep. “Doubt that’s happenin’ anytime soon,” he admits before heading back out to the yard with an empty trash bag.

Hanzo watches him go from his station at the kitchen window, hands submerged in the soapy water of the sink as he goes about the herculean task of cleaning up after the party. A few other agents are helping Jesse tidy up the mess in the backyard, Ana and Fareeha gathering decorations while Reinhardt goes about disassembling tables and folding chairs. Behind him Hanzo can hear a few stragglers lingering by the front door chatting with Genji and Angela.

The baby shower went better than planned. Of all the possible issues that could have cropped up, a family feud between one of Angela’s aunts and a distant cousin was the worst he had to deal with, and that simply involved making sure the two steered clear of each other as much as possible. Cheryl, Angela’s mother, had laughed a bit cruely when she was explaining the family drama to him earlier that week. After some of the things he has heard from Cheryl, Hanzo is starting to think the yakuza are not nearly as vicious as the lifelong grudges held by family members pretending to be civil. Other than that, there was plenty of food, perfect weather, and good company. They could not have asked for more.

Still, in all his planning, Hanzo never allowed himself to entertain that Jesse McCree might show up and sweep him quite literally off his feet. After all this time the man still finds a way to surprise him.

Hanzo can admit now, even if it is just to himself, that he had taken the coward’s way out all those months ago. He had become so used to the two of them traveling together, dining together, fighting together, sharing space and jokes, dreams and fears--so comfortable, so  _ content  _ with Jesse by his side. Falling for him was as easy as breathing, but facing that realization was terrifying. And with every day spent in Jesse’s company, Hanzo had felt his resolve slipping. It was only a matter of time before he broke and confessed his feelings. 

When Genji called to share the happy news, Hanzo had eagerly jumped at the opportunity to put some distance between himself and Jesse. Of course, he would have gone anyway; Genji and Angela deserve all the support he can give. But he would have done things differently if he had not been so desperate to quell his own emotions. Hanzo is not sure what he would have done if Jesse offered to come along.

It took less than a week for Hanzo to figure out that leaving like he did had been a mistake. He felt Jesse’s absence like his missing limbs, sometimes acutely aware of it but more often than not the feeling would sneak up on him in the worst ways. He would turn to share a joke, or his eyes would seek him out in a room but there would be no warm gaze staring back. He ached sometimes to just hear his voice. But some habits Hanzo has yet to break. Instead of seeking Jesse out, Hanzo threw himself fully into preparations for the baby and resolved to bury these feelings so deep they would never see the light of day.

Of course that is when Angela had to go and figure things out.

 

\---

 

Genji had left on his last extended mission before being assigned to light duty in preparation for his paternity leave. Three weeks was hardly a bother under normal circumstances; some agents spend months away from their loved ones working undercover or monitoring targets. The time away never bothered Genji or Angela before, but that was when they did not have a little one on the way. While Angela was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, there had been a rough patch with her health recently that gave them all a scare, both for herself and her baby. Everyone involved felt safer knowing she would have someone with her just in case something went wrong. More than happy to take up that responsibility, Hanzo volunteered and spent the next three weeks in Angela’s company.

The first day or two was a bit awkward. Not because of Hanzo’s past relationship with Genji--they put those worries to rest years ago. No, it was the lack of familiarity that made those initial days stilted. They had worked together for years with Overwatch, fought together on the battlefield, sometimes lingering together in the communal kitchen in those early morning hours when coffee was the only thing on their minds. But there were always other agents around; Angela and Hanzo never went on a pairs mission together, and those early mornings waiting for the coffee to percolate were accompanied by one or more other agents idly scrambling eggs or frying bacon nearby. Apart from Hanzo’s occasional stays in the infirmary, the two rarely spent time alone together. Without their friends to guide the conversation, there was a sudden worry that the two had nothing in common to talk about.

By the end of that first week, Hanzo wondered why he ever worried in the first place. They got along splendidly and had far more in common than either ever realized. And, when conversation lulled, they could always fall back on sharing amusing anecdotes from their younger days. Hanzo kept Angela laughing for hours about Genji’s exploits as a child, and Angela seemed to have a near endless supply of stories about the other agents. Perhaps it was the extra interest that Hanzo showed in Jesse’s younger years that got her suspicious. Or, perhaps he was just transparent all along.

He should have known something was up when she offered him the bottle of tequila she had in the cabinet, complaining about how at least one of them should enjoy it since she had to be sober for months still. Tequila is not even something he normally drinks, but she was so adamant. She was a little too convincing. Getting plied with liquor by the good Doctor Ziegler for interrogation purposes; Jesse would be proud.

“You know, you bring up Jesse a lot,” Angela said from her end of the couch. The television had been on low volume for an hour as she listened to a drunken Hanzo ramble about whatever thoughts entered his head. One thought seemed to come up more often than the others, and she was a scientist. She could follow the evidence. “Been missing him lately?”

Angela had been expecting him to ignore the jab, maybe even give a flippant remark before changing the subject. What she had not expected was Hanzo going quiet. A concerned glance over had her catching him casting a forlorn look to the side and him taking a healthy swig from the bottle. “Oh, Hanzo.”

“How could I not miss him,” Hanzo said, unaware that he was basically blurting out more than he ever would usually. “With his, his stupid smile and his stupid laugh and, and--stupid smell.” He took another drink and tipped backward against the couch cushions so he could lay out on his back, prosthetic legs hooked over the arm of the couch and dangling in the air. “Stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” she had admonished. With his focus on his woes, Hanzo completely missed her triumphant grin and the little fist pump she does over his head. “Is this a recent development?”

“...No.” Hanzo jerks suddenly and points over his shoulder at her without looking. “You cannot say a word of this, not to anyone!  _ Not to Genji! _ ”

“I won’t! I promise!” she swore, patting his hand so he would calm down. “So you’ve had a crush on Jesse for years--”

“Children have crushes, and I am not a child--”

“--for years, and instead of talking about it like an adult, you ran off. Like a child,” she cut off. He huffed but did not argue the point. “Did it ever occur to you to tell Jesse?”

On the other end of the couch Hanzo let out an uncharacteristic whine, looking every bit like a petulant teenager mourning a love that never was. Dregs of tequila sloshed at the bottom of the bottle that hung from his limp arm. “He is not interested in me like that.”

Angela snorted. “Right. You did mean Jesse McCree, right? He only flirts with you every chance he gets.”

“He flirts with everyone,” Hanzo said, surly. Was it jealousy or envy that flared in his stomach at the thought? Right at that moment he could not remember the difference.

“Not like he flirts with you,” Angela replied. “You must know that. He likes you more than anyone else.”

Hanzo frowned up at the ceiling. “No-ooooooo,” he groaned, moving both hands to cover his face and forgetting that one was occupied with the tequila bottle. Angela smoothly snagged it from his grasp before he could bonk himself in the head and set it on the coffee table. From behind his fingers she heard a muffled, “You are just trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” she laughed, folding her legs underneath her and taking a sip from of grape juice from her glass. She normally hated grape juice; damn hormones. “He didn’t go traipsing around the world with any of his other friends, you know. And he doesn’t look at any of the other agents like he looks at you.”

The fingers covering his right eye split apart so he could squint at her from his upside-down position. “Like what?”

Angela pet her stomach. “In a way that is not appropriate for the baby to hear,” she teased.

He blinked at her like that was the first time he ever considered Jesse could be honestly attracted back. “Really?”

“The fact that you did not notice really makes me question how good a sniper and a ninja you are,” she said. “You are both good at hiding it, usually, but I have known Jesse a long time. It is obvious.”

A stricken look passed over Hanzo’s features then as a terrifying thought entered his head. “Does Genji know?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Hanzo could not tell if she was lying or not, his mind a step slower than normal in his drunken state. He was not sure if he could handle Genji holding that little bit of blackmail over his head. The worry slipped from his mind when Angela asked, “What was Jesse like when you left? Sad?”

“I...suppose,” Hanzo replied. His thoughts had wandered back to that day, remembering the odd tone of Jesse’s voice as they said their goodbyes. The smile that never quite reached his eyes. The unexpected embrace, Jesse’s palm warm on the small of his back that made him shiver. The promises they had made to keep in touch that had seemed hollow even then. Hanzo had done a horrible job of keeping that promise, too wrapped up in his own wallowing. His arms fell pliant next to his head and he sighed. “It does not matter. I left. Like a coward.”

“Die Liebe wächst mit der Entfernung,” Angela said, smiling at Hanzo’s head tilted in confusion. “You should call him in the morning. He will be more happy to hear from you than you think.”

 

\---

 

“Do we have any cheddar quiche left?”

Hanzo is knocked out of his reverie by Angela’s question and her rooting through the refrigerator.. He nods toward one of the covered dishes on the counter and has to smile at the sound of her footsteps, more a shuffle than her normal clipped walk, as she crosses the kitchen and starts digging through the platter. “Would you like me to make you a plate?”

“Nmph,” she says around a bite of quiche. “No, I got it. And you don’t need to be cleaning already! You worked so hard today!”

“The dishes will not wash themselves,” he replies. He glances over and has to do a double take when he catches Angela alternating between eating a chunk of quiche and a slice of coffee cake with something green and questionable on top. “Is that...a pickle?”

Angela shoots him a flat look. “Don’t judge me, Shimada.”

He has to fight to keep his face from showing disgust. Over the past months he has become accustomed to hiding the reaction, as Angela’s cravings are notoriously varied. “Of course not,” he says, turning back to his chore.

She finishes her snack and comes over to join him by the sink, and suddenly Hanzo finds arms draped around his neck and a blonde head resting on his shoulder. “I did not thank you.”

A smile flashes across his features. “You thanked me before the party.” And yesterday, and several times the week before. He finds it endearing, considering no thanks is necessary.

“Not just for the party,” she clarifies. “For everything. All the work you do, helping with chores and the doctor, keeping track of things, being here for Genji, for me.” Her voice goes a little wobbly at the end. “You do so much and I can’t thank you enough.”

Hanzo can feel an uncomfortable flush staining his cheeks. Angela’s shifting emotions are another thing he has become accustomed to in recent months. “Think nothing of it,” Hanzo replies.

“I am. You can’t stop me,” Angela says, contrary, and squeezes him in a hug. With his hands soaked and covered in bubbles he cannot hug her back or even attempt to disengage, so he resigns himself to his fate and lets her cling. “You being here has meant the world to us.”

A wave of emotion swells up inside him, and Hanzo can feel his eyes sting slightly. He has to swallow down the sudden ache in his throat. “It has meant the world to me as well,” he admits quietly, pressing his temple briefly to the crown of her head before straightening again. 

Luckily Angela is perceptive enough to catch the self-conscious shift in his posture and releases him with a wide smile and a sniffle. Her tone turns wry. “That being said, I think you should skip dinner tonight and head home early.”

Hanzo finally looks at her fully and frowns. “What? Why?”

“I think you have something you’d rather be doing tonight, don’t you think?” she asks pointedly. “Or someone?”

That flush returns tenfold, Hanzo’s mouth pressing into a thin line as he fights a smile. His eyes seek out Jesse through the window of their own accord. “Genji invited him to dinner as well,” he says, ignoring the last bit.

Angela is not about to let this one slide. “We’re just going to order pizza, nothing special. I’m tired after today, anyway. We can all have breakfast together in the morning. I know the two of you would much rather be alone right now.” She pinches Hanzo’s side, giggling as he tries to avoid it without dropping the plate he is washing. “I think you’ve earned a night off to be with your boyfriend.”

“We are far too old for that word,” Hanzo complains, finally letting the smile slip free. “Are you sure? Genji wanted to discuss--”

“I am certain,” Angela says, firm but good-natured. “Besides, I would not want to get in the way of any baby-making between you two.”

Hanzo grimaces around his smile and Angela breaks out into giggling snorts. Something tells him Orisa’s announcement of his and Jesse’s relationship is going to stick with him forever. Not that he is entirely certain where their relationship stands at the moment, but for once he is not allowing himself to worry about the specifics. The fact that there is a relationship at all is enough to make him giddy. “Please do not say that ever again.”

“Efi seemed apologetic,” Angela says on the tail end of a laugh, picking up some of the clean serving spoons and putting them in their proper drawer. “And everyone was very happy for the two of you. I think I saw Ana pinching Jesse’s cheeks, which is always a good sign that she approves of things. It all worked out, just like I told you it would.” She shoots him a look. “You could have worked things out earlier if you had just listened to me, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” he replies, and for the first time he does not bristle in response to her gentle reprimand. Because she is right, of course she is right, and has been ever since he got drunk and poured his heart out. If he had just faced his fears he might not have spent so long worrying for nothing. “You were right. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Angela says, grinning. They both look out the window then as the sound of Jesse’s laughter catches their attention. Genji has joined him in the back yard collecting plastic cups and dirty napkins in the garbage bag. The ninja must have said something challenging as Jesse has dropped the bag so the two of them can roughhouse. They twist and tumble as they try to keep their footing, Jesse trapping Genji in a headlock and ruffling his hair out of place. Angela huffs out another laugh, this one exasperated. “These boys, the same as they were in Blackwatch.” She leans over the sink and yanks the window up and open. “Hey! You two behave, I am not bandaging you up tonight!”

They freeze like two kids caught sneaking out after bedtime and turn wide-eyed innocent faces toward the window. “Behave? Don’t know what that is,” Jesse calls back as they break out into matching grins.

“That is the man you have chosen as godfather,” Hanzo says to Angela. “The child will be a delinquent.”

“If the three of you teach my baby to be an assassin I will murder you all myself,” she says serenely, unperturbed.

Genji and Jesse wander back inside just as Hanzo and Angela are finishing a sink full of dishes. “Think we got most of the trash,” Jesse says, tying a knot in the strings on top of his bag. “At least what’s outside. We’ll probably need a whole ‘nother bag for in here.”

“We can handle it from here,” Angela replies. She and Genji’s eyes meet in the silent communication that only develops after years of practice. Hanzo catches it just as she yawns, a decidedly exaggerated yawn. “There is not much left to do, and all this excitement has left me so tired!”

“You both had a big day,” Genji says, stepping forward and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his hand spreading lovingly on the swell of her abdomen. “I think a nice quiet night in is in order.”

“We can finish up in the morning,” Hanzo jumps in. In the morning she can be as smug as she wants about throwing him a bone, he will gladly take it. “You should get your rest.”

“Yeah, we can amuse ourselves just fine,” Jesse adds. “I’m a might bit tired myself. Jetlag and all that.”

Genji hums thoughtfully and smirks. “Hanzo can provide you a bed, I believe.”

Beside him Angela bites her lip to keep from laughing, then strides forward to hook her arm in Jesse’s and lead him toward the door with talk of plans for tomorrow. The move allows Hanzo to smack Genji and his impish smirk. “You are an ass.”

“You’re welcome,” Genji replies, unrepentant. He wraps his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and shakes him as they follow their partners, his next words in murmured in Japanese next to Hanzo’s ear. “I do not want to hear from you before noon tomorrow. Go get laid, and if you do not show up with a shit-eating grin on your face I will disown you both.”

“When did you get so vulgar? And fuck you,” Hanzo counters. That gets a cackle from Genji and a stronger one-armed hug that Hanzo returns. He missed this, the camaraderie, the easy familiarity he once had with his brother. And looking forward to find Angela, the sister-in-law he never knew he wanted, and Jesse, his best friend and man that might-could-possibly be stealing his heart? That joy comes surging back tenfold.

Something on his face must give it away, or maybe Jesse has just always smiled at him that way. “So, a late breakfast then?” Jesse asks, glancing between the two of them.

Hanzo claps his hand against Genji’s back. “Better make it lunch.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns.


	3. Chapter 3

As with most aspects of life, the exciting is interspersed with the mundane. Rather than riding off into the sunset with Hanzo on horseback, they have to deal with the more practical reality of Hanzo driving his own car back to his apartment and Jesse following in his rental. The ride is nothing short of mild torture, Jesse’s mind filling with possibilities, all nervous energy and giddy anticipation.

His heart races when they finally pull into the parking lot of Hanzo’s apartment complex. The place is modest and quiet, and, if Jesse were to guess, has perfect sight-lines from every vantage point and a well-planned escape route. Paranoid, perhaps, but old habits die hard and Jesse would expect no less from the ex-assassin. Jesse pulls into the spot next to Hanzo’s and grabs his duffel out of the back seat. Hanzo waits for him on the sidewalk, fingers fidgeting nervously with his keys. “I am on the third floor,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder as Jesse locks his doors.

“Been here long?” Jesse asks, more to fill the silence than anything.

“I moved in about a week after I arrived.” Hanzo leads him up several flights of stairs to the top floor, and puts an unusual amount of focus into sticking the key in the door lock. He toes off his shoes just inside the front door and Jesse follows suit. “This is it,” he says unnecessarily once they are inside.

Jesse takes a cursory look around but nothing registers. Hanzo could live in a mansion or a shack, it wouldn’t matter to Jesse. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

The following silence is awkward and rife with tension. Hanzo’s arms twitch to cross over his chest, then back down to his sides, a man trying to figure out what to do with himself in his own home. The whole thing is a bit surreal and so unlike them that a nervous laugh bubbles out of Jesse. What a pair they make. He drops his bag by the door and takes a tentative step toward Hanzo. “Hi.”

A shy smile blooms on Hanzo’s face and he takes his own step nearer.“Hello.”

Jesse moves in close, hands alighting on Hanzo’s hips to pull him in. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says as Hanzo’s slide up to grip his shoulders.

They both breathe out through their noses in relief when their lips meet, the little whispers of doubt fading to nothing. Each cannot help but break the kiss with the flash of smiles at their own silliness. Then Hanzo is tugging Jesse down, opening up for Jesse after the first swipe of tongue along his full bottom lip.

Jesse has every intention of keeping things slow and sweet, he really does. But the embers inside have been smoldering all afternoon and all it takes is Hanzo releasing a breathy moan to stoke that fire into a blaze. He wants to taste every inch of Hanzo’s mouth, familiarize himself with every contour, and learn what it takes to make Hanzo burn. Insistent hands bury themselves in Jesse’s hair to hold him in place, Hanzo giving as good as he gets.

By the time they finally release each other for breath, their lips are red and swollen. Jesse has to swallow before he can murmur against Hanzo’s mouth, “I’ll leave it up to you, Han. We can sit on the couch and talk, or–”

“Bed,” Hanzo answers, already pushing Jesse backwards into the apartment.

Two steps in they are already back to kissing, which makes for a perilous trip past the living room furniture and a jarring crash against the wall in the hallway. They fumble through the door to Hanzo’s room before toppling down onto his unmade bed. From there, any idea of finesse flies out the window. Jesse cannot get enough of Hanzo, his mouth, his hands, his body, everything about him. Hanzo is just as desperate. His hands are everywhere, pulling Jesse down by his neck, his shoulders, his hips, twining their legs together like brambles hopeless to untangle.

Jesse breaks away so he can lick and bite his way down to Hanzo’s neck, his facial hair scoring against the delicate skin of Hanzo’s throat and making him gasp. “God, Hanzo, you drive me crazy,” he whispers, licking at Hanzo’s pulse point. He smells the same as he always has, expensive shaving cream and cheap sake, a little bit of sweat and the heady scent of warm skin that is all Hanzo. “Been drivin’ me crazy for so damn long. Been wantin’ you for years.”

“Years?  _ Ah!” _ Hanzo arches into Jesse’s hold when the cowboy latches onto the spot just below his ear that makes him shake. “Do you mean we could have been doing this for–”

He cuts off with a hiss when Jesse digs into the meat of Hanzo’s shoulder, dragging the dull points of his teeth down to his exposed collar bone. “Years,” he reiterates. He laps at the edges of Hanzo’s tattoo, just visible under the cotton cloth of his shirt. “Shit, we’re dumb, ain’t we, darlin’?”

A wild laugh bursts out of Hanzo. He drags Jesse’s face back up so they can look each other in the eye. Jesse has never seen Hanzo look quiet so uninhibited, his eyes fiery and warm and open, and the thought of holding all that flame in his arms is enough to make Jesse dizzy. 

Whatever Hanzo sees in Jesse’s gaze in return sparks a grin from the archer. “Make it up to me,” Hanzo says before kissing Jesse hard.

They don’t undress each other so much as pull, tug, and rip until the cloth somehow moves out of the way, too engrossed in maintaining contact to worry about pesky things like fasteners or seams. Hanzo’s expensive dress shirt that probably costs more than his rent loses a sleeve in the struggle to get fabric over his head, Jesse’s tongue flicking Hanzo’s nipple to hardness too distracting to worry about the price. He retaliates by yanking at Jesse’s shirt without bothering with buttons and a few are sent skittering across the floor, one rolling back out into the hall. Jesse pays them no mind. He can get more buttons; hell, Hanzo can wreck his whole wardrobe if it means they end up naked faster. Their hands tangle to force open zippers and shove pants and underwear down, bodies only separating long enough to kick the rest of the clothing free.

“Come here,” Hanzo growls, pulling Jesse back again. They groan into each others’ mouths at the skin-on-skin contact. Hanzo’s legs fall open so Jesse can press between them, first with one thigh, then with two. Their hips roll together as they grind from chest to knees, delighting in Hanzo’s smoothness a sharp contrast to Jesse’s hair, the heat quickly growing between them. Jesse is certain he has never been this hard in his life.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Jesse murmurs.

The soft rumble against the shell of Hanzo’s ear racks him with a full body shiver, and his responding moan is needy in a way that is downright pornographic. “Yes,” he replies, nails digging into Jesse’s sides. “Now.”

Prepping Hanzo doesn’t take long; the bottle the archer retrieves from his bedside table is suspiciously empty, and his face registers no discomfort at all when Jesse starts stretching him with two fingers right away. “Fuck, Hanzo,” Jesse groans as his fingers sink deep, the other man already squirming for more. He crooks them, searching for Hanzo’s prostate, and watches Hanzo thrust down against the sensation. “Gorgeous.”

“I’ve wanted this,” Hanzo admits. He sounds intoxicated with sensation, his pleasure-soaked mind too far gone to consider being embarrassed or ashamed. “I thought about you so much, even when I thought we would never— _ oh!” _

The flush on Hanzo’s face spreads lower, down his throat and over his broad chest. Jesse zeroes in on the spot that elicited such a delicious response and eases in a third finger. “You’re gonna get what you want, baby. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Hanzo’s slow to respond, too busy panting through the stretch and adjusting to Jesse’s thick fingers. “Baby?”

“What, you don’t like it?” Jesse asks, stroking in and out, peppering Hanzo’s jaw with kisses.

“I love all your pet names,” Hanzo replies. The answer takes Jesse by surprise; he would pursue that line of thought if not for Hanzo letting out a whine and pawing at Jesse’s arm. “That’s enough. I’m ready.”

Jesse snatches up the bottle of lube and coats himself, quick and efficient less this is over before it begins. The way Hanzo spreads his legs wider and arches under Jesse’s gaze, its a real possibility. “You tell me if I need to stop,” he says, moving in close and teasing the head of his cock against Hanzo’s entrance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hanzo’s arms and legs come up and wrap around Jesse, holding on. “You won’t.” 

They both hold their breath as Jesse sinks into Hanzo’s willing body. Hanzo is slick and so hot inside, tight despite the easy prep, and the sensation is exquisite enough to make Jesse’s thighs tremble. He watches Hanzo’s face as he bottoms out and the other man’s eyes roll back with pleasure. Jesse pauses there so Hanzo can adjust, because he’s a gentleman like that. “Good?”

“So good,” Hanzo gasps. His hands finally release the death grip they have on Jesse’s shoulders to roam over his face, down over his chest and stomach. “Fuck, Jesse.”

Jesse can’t help but smile, can’t help but feel in awe, thanking his lucky stars he somehow ended up here. “Yeah,” he agrees, placing a feather-light kiss on the cut of Hanzo’s cheekbone. “Ready?”

At Hanzo’s nod, Jesse starts to move. He is tentative at first, but not for long. Hanzo is so responsive, so eager, and Jesse reads each sign from his lover and responds accordingly. His thrusts lengthen and he fucks into Hanzo deep, each hard push followed by a slow slide back out, prolonging the pleasure, luxuriating in the movements. Hanzo opens up for him and tightens in turns. His nails leave thin red lines up Jesse’s back and along his love handles, and the heels of Hanzo’s prosthetics dig bruises into the backs of Jesse’s thighs and ass. Jesse plants his knees into the mattress and puts his back into it.

“Harder,” Hanzo moans, voice ratcheting higher when Jesse complies. “Oh, oh,  _ oh fuck, _ Jesse,  _ yes!” _

Jesse ducks his head, lapping at the sweat glistening on Hanzo’s neck. “That’s it, love,” he growls, thrusting harder. “Sing for me.”

He does, and each noise that pours out of Hanzo’s throat is more glorious than the last, better than anything Jesse could ever dream of. There is no way he can last, not listening to Hanzo dissolve into needy whines as he writhes beneath him. Jesse reaches between them to take Hanzo in hand. It only takes a few strokes before Hanzo wails, his whole body seizing tight around Jesse, his walls clamping down as he comes in thick spurts between them. That’s more than enough to push Jesse right over with him, muffling his own quiet grunts into the thickness of Hanzo’s shoulder.

Hanzo’s legs slowly fall loose from around Jesse’s waist and they slump together, muscles still twitching through the aftershocks. The room goes quiet apart from the sound of their panting breaths. Jesse noses against Hanzo’s temple until the other man turns his head so he can press an uncoordinated kiss to Hanzo’s lips. The action makes Hanzo offer a lazy smile and he pushes Jesse’s sweaty, tangled hair from his face so they can kiss better.

Softening, Jesse slips from Hanzo and they both grimace at the uncomfortable stickiness. “Hang in there, sweetheart, I’ll get somethin,” Jesse murmurs, pushing up and off the other man. He makes his way to the connecting bathroom on shaky legs in search of a washcloth. After he cleans himself off he returns with the damp cloth, smiling when he finds Hanzo hasn’t moved an inch. “You alright?” Jesse asks as he crawls back into bed.

Hanzo hums in answer, his own lips turning upward as Jesse carefully cleans him of the mess they made. The washcloth gets dropped over the side of the bed then Jesse wrestles the tangled sheets into submission before laying down at Hanzo’s side.

Without prompting, Hanzo rolls into Jesse’s hold, snuggling until he is draped over Jesse’s chest like a hot, affectionate blanket. Jesse lets out a long, relaxed exhale, his metal hand wrapping around Hanzo so he can stroke the planes of his back. “I’d say that was a good deal better than sittin’ on the couch and talking,” Jesse observes.

Hanzo huffs out a laugh. “We are men of action,” he replies. His fingers trail over Jesse’s chest, playing with the dark curls he finds there. “Though, I suppose we should talk as you suggested.”

Jesse’s smile turns a touch wistful. “I did miss our talks.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo starts, then pauses, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, apprehension coloring the name on his lips.

“It’s alright, Han, you don’t–”

“No, let me speak.” He snatches up Jesse’s flesh-and-blood hand and brushes a kiss to his knuckles, then looks down at the tangle of their fingers together. “I apologize for leaving the way I did. Romantic feelings aside, you are important to me, and I should have handled things differently. I am sorry.”

Jesse thinks he can count on two hands the number of times he has heard a genuine apology from Hanzo Shimada. Not surprising, considering the other man is usually right about most things and when he is not his pride gets in the way of acknowledging it. Jesse is not stupid enough to dismiss it as nothing. He squeezes Hanzo’s fingers and returns the gesture, kissing Hanzo’s fingers one by one. “Thank you,” he says, bringing the hand down over his heart. “We both made mistakes. I know neither one of us are great at the whole keepin’-in-touch thing. Never hit me hard like this before.”

“I feel the same.”

Jesse taps his thumb against the back of Hanzo’s hand and offers a wry grin. “Probably wouldn’t’ve stung like it did, but there’s them pesky romantic feelings you were talkin’ about.”

“We should have handled that differently, as well,” Hanzo points out. His eyes then give Jesse a slow, deliberate once-over, lingering on the vast expanse of bare skin. “Things have turned out well, all things considered.”

Jesse laughs at that, an unexpected and entirely unnecessary blush spreading across his face. He was just dick-deep in the other man; it is a little late for a suggestive look to set him all aflutter. “You got that right, sugar.”

Hanzo shoots him a triumphant little smile as he eases off the bed and heads for the hallway, naked as the day he was born. “Let me get us something to drink. I am parched.” Glancing back, he catches Jesse watching his ass and titters before disappearing out the door.

Relaxing against the pillows with a content sigh, Jesse takes a moment to look around the room since he was a bit preoccupied earlier. There is nothing particularly remarkable about the place, pretty standard as far as apartment bedrooms go, but the fact that it is Hanzo’s is a novel concept. Hanzo has not settled in one place for more than two weeks since they left Overwatch; neither has Jesse, always keeping things light so he could stay on the move, going from job to job. This room has all the signs of at least semi-permanence. The archer must have got some of his possessions out of storage.

There is no denying that the room is definitely Hanzo’s, and Jesse’s eyes seek out the familiar details. Hanzo’s winter coat, the one with the ridiculous collar that Jesse loved to make jokes about, is slung across the back of a reading chair by the window. A canteen that Jesse has stolen sake from countless times is perched on the dresser next to a bundle of gold fabric. Jesse wonders just how recently Hanzo cut his hair. Stormbow and a quiver lean in easy reach of the bed, and Jesse would wager Peacekeeper that there are at least ten other weapons hidden strategically about the room. 

Hanzo returns with two tumblers, an amber-tinted bottle and, much to Jesse’s continuing enjoyment, is still very much nude. He settles against Jesse’s hip and goes about preparing their drinks. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you call this cowboy swill?” Jesse asks when he is handed a glass, noting the label on the bottle as one of his preferred brands of whiskey.

“It has grown on me,” Hanzo replies, pouring his own. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

Jesse grins and clinks their glasses together. The whiskey goes down smooth and spreads a different kind of warmth through his veins. “Can I tell you a secret?” Hanzo hums around his drink, lifting an eyebrow in question. “I started drinkin’ that sake you like. The one that tastes like the green apples.”

“You said it tasted too much like fruit juice,” Hanzo accuses, delighted.

“Yeah, well,” Jesse laughs, shrugging and setting his drink aside. Whatever he was going to say is waylaid when his eyes spot a familiar little figure on the bedside table. “Hey! My donkey!”

The carved wooden statuette is only about three inches tall. A dull brown, it portrays a stout donkey with big ears that stands on dainty legs. They were on a job in Guerrero when stopped in a run-down store on the side of the highway in search of gas and supplies. A tiny attached gift shop filled with trinkets and tchotchkes was a fun distraction, and as they had wandered the three aisles Hanzo spotted a collection of animal figures carved from wood. He had picked up the donkey, amused by the dimensions, pointing out the uneven eyes and disproportional ears. After leaving the store, Jesse surprised Hanzo with the donkey as a gift, but Jesse never paid much attention to what happened to it after that.

“I didn’t know you kept it,” Jesse says as Hanzo reaches over to pick up the donkey, running his fingers over the wood in a possessive gesture.

“Of course I did. It was a gift from you,” Hanzo replies. He takes another drink from his glass then sets it down so he can lay down on Jesse’s stomach. Jesse watches with a growing smile as Hanzo settles in, comfortable and content to share space, and proceeds to gallop the donkey playfully through the hair on Jesse’s chest like a wild stallion across the plains. They share a laugh, and Hanzo tilts his head. “Do you remember what you said when you gave it to me?”

Jesse’s brows furrow as he tries to think back on it, but he realizes that job was over a year ago. “Hopefully not somethin’ cheesy?”

“You said,” Hanzo says, putting deliberate emphasis on the words, “that it reminded you of me, but you would never say how.”

“Ah, yes, that does sound like me,” Jesse replies. The conversation is starting to come back to him. He takes the donkey from Hanzo and holds it up, remembering that day. “Stubborn as a mule and too cute for words.”

Hanzo gapes, trying to steal the donkey back. “You were not thinking that!”

“Was too!” Jesse snags Hanzo around the waist, hauling him up his body so he can smack a too-wet kiss to the other man’s cheek. A hand gets pushed against Jesse’s face as Hanzo squirms and tries not to let out any laughs that sound suspiciously like giggles. “When I gave it to you, you turned a precious pink and wouldn’t let me have any of that candy you bought.”

“Shut up,” Hanzo laughs, resting his head on Jesse’s shoulder. “Whenever I saw it, I would think of you. Of how much I missed you,” he admits. 

“I missed you too. So damn much sometimes. Spent more than a few nights at the bottom of a bottle thinkin’ about it.” Jesse kisses Hanzo again, sweeter than before, a soothing balm for the past months apart.

Hanzo presses their foreheads together as the kiss ends, swallowing. “How long will you be in town?”

The question, though expected, still casts a dark cloud over their cozy cuddle in bed. Jesse lays back sighs. “Got the hotel room for two nights—which I really ought to cancel if I’m going to be here. After that, I’m supposed to be meetin’ a contact for a bounty in Sacramento this comin’ Tuesday.” A pensive look crosses Hanzo’s features and Jesse has to fight the churn of unease in his gut. He combs his fingers through Hanzo’s hair. “I guess we need to figure out where we stand.”

“Yes,” Hanzo agrees. He takes the donkey back from Jesse and considers it for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. “We have spent too much time being cowardly about our feelings, so I would like to speak plainly.” At Jesse’s nod, he continues, “I want there to be more between us, and I do not think I could ever be...causally involved. That is not something I am interested in. And I am not eager to be apart from you again. But for now, my life is here, with Genji and Angela and the baby.” He keeps his eyes down on the figurine, not looking Jesse in the eye. “I cannot leave them. Not now. And I do not know when I’ll be ready to, if ever, and if that is too much for you, or–or not what you want, I understand—”

“Whoa, whoa now, hold your horses.” Jesse sits up, dragging Hanzo with him so he can have this conversation properly. “First off, this ain’t some sort of one-off for me, either. You know that.” He curls a knuckle under Hanzo’s chin and raises until Hanzo looks him in the eye. “I want this. I want this just as much as you do. I don’t want to be apart, neither. I mean, maybe it’s too soon for us to be talkin’ about forever, but I ain’t too keen on having a repeat of the past six months. You mean too much to me for that.”

Jesse can practically see the tension sliding out of Hanzo, his eyes filling with relief. Still, he reaches up and holds Jesse’s arm with both hands, voice careful. “What about the job?”

“There’ll be other jobs,” Jesse assures, his free hand coming up to comb through Hanzo’s hair. “I got plenty of money saved up. Maybe it’s time I stayed in one place for a spell.”

“Really?” Hanzo asks, tentative and hopeful.

“Yeah. Besides, I’ve got to be here for when my godson or goddaughter decides to make an entrance, don’t I?”

Hanzo’s face breaks into a wide grin and his eyes light up. “Yes!” He looks around the room, gesturing as he speaks. “There is enough room here for two. We can rearrange the apartment, and there is space in the closet. I have spare drawers for more of your clothes, and the guest room will eventually have a crib for when I watch the baby but we can always–ah, well,” Hanzo stops and looks back to Jesse, sheepish. “And you might want a place of your own, of course.”

“You really are a menace when it comes to planning, aren’t you?” Jesse laughs, pulling Hanzo in for a kiss. “Don’t worry, darlin’, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

 

\---

 

“They are late,” Genji says, checking his phone for the third time in ten minutes. No new texts, no missed calls.

“It is not a big deal,” Angela replies. Her attention is completely on the menu before her and trying to decide if the baby will let her eat anything with dairy today. After yesterday, she guesses not, and resigns herself to a selection that is less likely to give her heartburn. She flips the menu closed and looks over at Genji fiddling with his phone. “It’s just lunch. Besides, Jesse is not known for his punctuality.”

Genji frowns when she snatches the phone from his hands and places it deliberately on the tabletop. “This is Hanzo. He is never late. To be late by twenty minutes, he may well have been kidnapped.”

Just then Angela spots a familiar pair walk through the door of the restaurant, and she cannot keep the smug smile off her face. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Hanzo catches sight of Angela and Genji’s table, and Jesse directs him over with a hand on the small of Hanzo’s back. As they approach, Angela takes note that their clothes are rumpled and their hair is dripping wet. Between that, the noticeable hickey on Hanzo’s neck, and the ridiculous grins on their faces, it is not hard to guess what they were up to before they remembered the time.

Her husband sees this too, and Genji turns to smile at his lovely wife. “Right as usual, Angela.”

“Mothers know these things,” she replies, giggling when he leans over to peck her cheek. A hand settled on her round belly, she and Genji turn to greet the new couple. After months of watching Hanzo and Jesse pine for each other, Angela and Genji have a lot of teasing to make up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking this will continue in the future, exploring the many adventures of Uncle Hanzo and Godfather McCree. Thoughts? Let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns. You can now also find me as wyntera on Pillowfort!


End file.
